Restraint
by WastefulWaif
Summary: Lacey was wild. She was wicked. She was rotten to the core. And for reasons Gold could not conceive, it only made him want her more. [Oneshot. Set in the alleyway of 2x19.]


**Title: **Restraint

**Summary: **She was wild. She was wicked. She was rotten to the core. And for reasons he could not conceive, it only made him want her more. [GoldxLacey. Set in the alleyway of 2x19.]

**Author's Note: **Gold and Lacey makes me feel squeamish both because of what the characters bring out in each other and how it's kinda dub-con. The whole thing about Belle's body with a different consciousness. On the other hand, basically every scene in the past few episodes seems to cut away right before the hot and naughty and I can't stand it. This dark, tawdry, innuendo-ridden drabble is basically a product of that tension. Reviews are appreciated. :)

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Each delicious crack of bone, new blast of bloody vomit, or whimpering attempt to move away from the cane's trajectory sharply augmented Mr. Gold's twisted delight in the justice of the beating. For one who could see the future, ironically the stars so rarely aligned in such a satisfying way.

Mr. Gold had maintained his best behavior for an excruciating length of time. The good streak was a combination of atonement for age-old sins against Bae and misguided prompting from Prince Charming to be Belle's better man. Such little success achieved on either front.

It was getting harder. Nottingham had approached with a thoughtless machismo. "_We're_ _good_." As if the informality of estrangement with Belle would placate the Dark One. As the image of that cockroach slobbering artlessly over the goddess of a woman burned fresh between Gold's ears. Just two more steps and he'd be in the car, headed home.

Restraint was over-rated. Removing Nottingham's offending organ was a great start, but the satisfaction didn't really hit until the tall man became acquainted with the pavement. With the sheriff flat on his back, eyes screaming and throat flexing out smothered fragments of syllables, therapy could really begin.

Like his father, like his wife, like his son, Lacey had confirmed Mr. Gold's abysmal experience of interpersonal relationships. It always came down to the same thing. Gold wasn't up to standard. In his rages, the first whacks Mr. Gold distributed were always about his flawed extremes. Too cowardly (_**crack!**_), too mediocre (_**thwack!**_), too imperfect (_**crack!**_). Gold beat them like a metronome into Nottingham's back.

When Lacey arrived Mr. Gold had exhausted his resolve to even appear to fly right. So he copped to his indiscretion and braced for her disgust. He had tried persistent. He had tried contrite. He had tried polite. After abandoning all those efforts, the beast was on display.

And she was _glad_.

As much as beating the shit out of Nottingham initially slaked Mr. Gold's bloodlust, Lacey's affirmation incredibly enhanced the experience. Never had violence prompted such a release. Lacey greeted the volley of blows with a laugh that sent a shock straight through him, deep inside him. Never had Mr. Gold felt like more of a man. He was high.

Breathing ragged, burning up against the cold Maine night, bodily fluids creeping towards his shoes, Mr. Gold finally turned to look at Lacey. It was really in that moment that Belle's absence was overwhelming. The siren he observed couldn't be farther from Belle.

She was wild. She was wicked. She was rotten to the core. And for reasons he could not conceive, it only made him want her more.

It struck Gold that he must have been at it with Nottingham for a while, with her observing from the street corner in her short dress and uncomfortable heels. Lacey was biting her lower lip, scrunched against the weather in a way that emphasized the exhilarating slopes of her extremities, gazing at him in a way that made fourteen-year-old boy levels of adrenaline course wildly through his veins.

All for Lacey.

It could hardly be right.

"Gold, it's too cold..." Lacey purred gently as she swaggered forward and wrapped her arms across his shoulders. Every muscle in his body tensed. As she pressed parts of her anatomy into all the wrong places, the pace of Gold's breathing picked up sharply. He could smell perfume and liquor rolling off her in waves when she laughed softly at his stiffness, just before propositioning him with a sultry whisper.

"Take me home?"

Mr. Gold had maintained his best behavior for an excruciating length of time. It had been too long. She was so close. Her pouts and twists were promises.

It was getting harder. Everything he ever wanted, right in front of him. Cloying, suggesting, and pleading. Lacey...dark and beautiful.

Restraint was over-rated.


End file.
